Skin
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Ever the martyr, Emily can't say no. She's going to have to become Lauren Reynolds again, just for a night. Set in season 7. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so first thing, I realized that I haven't posted a story in three months, and I don't think I've done that in years. It was a combination of focusing my writing energies elsewhere (an original novella), and needing a break from all the cop stuff. I finished an internship and volunteer work in May that had me reading real case files very similar to what's on CM. I read hundreds of case files, and I got a little burnt out. I avoided cop shows for a while too, even CM (which I'm still behind on). So there you have it, I needed a break. _

_That said, I've got three stories, all chaptered that I'll be posting, probably starting at the end of July, and aside from maybe a one or two-shot here or there, that's probably going to be the end for me. I've got very little enthusiasm left for the show, and I want to focus more on my original writing projects. But I probably won't finish with all of them for while, so until then, here's a story I've had in my head for a while, or at least the first half. _

_Thanks for reading, and reviews are always welcome._

* * *

_"Have you ever seen a snake shed it's skin, and then try to crawl back in? It is not natural."_

_-Ziva David, NCIS 7.04 "Truth or Consequences"_

"Well, when he's not killing women, he's working as a go-between for gunrunners and biker gangs. What if we work our way in that way?" Morgan said, throwing up a hand in frustration.

"How would we do that?" Hotch asked.

Reid frowned and turned to Emily. "You said you ran into him when you were undercover as Lauren, right?"

"Yeah…" Her voice was distrustful as her eyes flicked about the room.

They'd been keeping Emily at the police station for just that reason, so she didn't encounter an unsub who might recognize her. Rossi was surprised when she didn't fight that decision. Emily hated being benched, but everything about Lauren Reynolds and her life at that time made her run or hide.

"He'll be receptive to you," Reid said. "If we send you in as Lauren, he might give something up."

Like the location of a body.

"Uh, I'd rather not do that."

JJ closed her case file, sympathetic eyes landing on Emily. "We may not have another option."

"It's not a bad plan," Hotch conceded.

Emily's jaw tensed and she looked at him, her eyes asking if he was in agreement. Dave sighed. "I don't like it, but he'll be hunting tonight. Even if he doesn't give anything up tonight, you may be able to distract him into not killing another woman."

The brunette ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and suddenly pushed away from the table, getting to her feet. She began to pace around the room, the tension thickening with every step she took.

This wasn't fair of them to ask her, he knew that, but they didn't have many options left. No Body Homicides were difficult enough, when the victims belonged to a serial killer, there was an added time crunch. Langston Davis was meeting women in Seattle, and these women were never seen again.

No one believed they were still alive.

Emily suddenly stopped. She turned back to them. "Before you ask me to do this, you need to know what you're asking."

He watched her eyes traveling among the five other pairs in the room, and when no one made comment, she sighed. "If I become Lauren for tonight, then I really _become her_. It's the only way I know how to do this." She bit her lip. "She is not a good person, she uses people, and you will not approve of how she deals with men." She glanced toward Morgan at the last part. "You will not like her, and you might not like me much either after this."

"I don't think you need to worry about that last part," Hotch assured her.

Emily nodded, and searched their faces again. Finally she nodded. "I need the keys to one of the SUVs and a few hours."

Rossi pulled out the set he had and held it out to her.

"One of us should go with you," Hotch said.

She shook her head. "No, I have to do this alone. It's going to be difficult enough, if any of you are around it will be impossible."

With that, she took the keys and disappeared out the door.

Morgan suddenly spoke. "I don't like this."

"Join the club," Dave muttered. He was certain that none of them really liked it, none of them liked anything that reminded them that for seven months, she'd been dead. That pain was still far too raw.

But they were desperate.

* * *

Emily's first stop was to get cigarettes and a lighter. After that she stopped at a drug store and used the GPS on her phone to find a mall. If she was going to be Lauren, she had to dress like Lauren, and she didn't have the type of clothing the gun-dealer favored in her go bag. And jewelry. Lauren favored delicate gold pieces, while Emily tended not to wear much yellow gold, and preferred pieces to be unique over expensive.

Her heart thudded as she shopped, but Emily kept it from racing out of control. She did not want to do this, did not want to slip that skin on again, but if doing so could save a woman's life, how could she say no? So her hands didn't tremble when she signed the credit car receipt, or when she broke open the pack and lit her first cigarette on the drive back to the hotel. It had taken her years to be able to quit smoking, and she'd just thrown it all away to become Lauren again.

She silently cursed Clyde for ever creating the woman in the first place, for ever deciding that Emily was perfect to go undercover.

Once inside her room, she showered and changed, slipping into the unfamiliar clothing that was like a second skin suddenly bringing Lauren alive inside her, bringing all her memories to the surface.

It wasn't so much the memories of Lauren that were hard for her. It was the ghost of Ian Doyle that was never far from her mind and inched ever closer as Lauren began to emerge. Emily disappeared for a moment, along with the hotel bathroom as she was swallowed up in memories, in Ian's embrace.

They stood on a balcony overlooking the villa grounds, Ian's arms wrapped tightly around her waist. His lips brushed the back of her neck, and he rested his head against hers. She rested her hands on top of his and released a breath of satisfaction.

Emily's eyes fluttered open, banishing the memory, but she could still smell him. His musky cologne. The bed they shared had always smelled of that musky cologne. It took her months to get used to sleeping without it.

The khakis were skinny fit, and so hugged each muscle in her legs, while the sweater was looser fit, though it didn't fail to accentuate her waist. It was light colored, but not as light as the khakis. She slid her feet into dressy brown boots that went up to mid-calf, after fitting the new shoes with gel insoles. It wasn't like she had time to break them in.

She ripped open the box and plugged in a new curling iron, allowing it to heat up so she could give herself Lauren's soft waves. She thought about cutting her hair into bangs, but decided against it. She wasn't going to dye it either.

Lastly, she spritzed herself with Lauren's perfume, and put on a bracelet and watch, leaving her neck bare. Before Lauren had died, Ian's necklace had found a permanent spot on her neck. Emily couldn't replace it now, it didn't feel right.

_Where's my ring?_

She was gone again in a memory, and this one wasn't so pretty.

Ian screamed in a rage, and threw her into a metal shelving unit, before pulling her back and pushing her to the floor. Her body throbbed with the pain.

Emily blinked again, her hand drifting toward her abdomen, fingers tracing her scar through the sweater. Her fingers did tremble now. She shook her hands out, and inhaled. It would be fine. She would be fine.

* * *

"Emily just texted. She's outside," Morgan said, looking up from his phone.

He saw Rossi glance at his watch. "Good timing."

"We all know where we are on surveillance?" Hotch asked. After they'd all confirmed with nodding heads, Hotch sent them out to the SUVs and headed off to gather the locals.

Morgan led the way outside, eager to check on his partner and make sure she was okay. And she was still his partner, even if Hotch had been putting him in the field with JJ more lately.

Emily would always be his partner.

He found her leaning up against the back of her SUV, a lit cigarette in one hand, and smoke pouring artfully from between her lips. She was dressed oddly as well, lighter colors and more provocative styles than he was used to seeing on her. Morgan approached her, frowning deeply and waving his hand against cigarette smoke. "Since when do you smoke?"

"Are we ready to go?" She completely ignored his question.

"Yeah. We arranged to borrow a car from one of the detectives for you. We profiled as a personal car, Lauren would have something sporty, but tough. Best we could find was a 75 Pontiac Firebird, cherry red. That work for you?"

Emily smiled and patted him on the cheek. "Good boy."

Then she strutted off in a fashion that was so out of sync with what he knew of his partner, that Morgan began to get a bad feeling about the whole thing. Well, worse feeling.

Detective Garvey handed Emily the keys to his car, while Emily shot him a flirty smile and actually brushed against him. Garvey was very clearly married. Morgan's jaw tensed, but he reminded himself that this was Lauren, not Emily, and that she had said they wouldn't like Lauren much. He sighed, and hopped into an unmarked sedan using the keys from another one of the detectives.

He arrived at the bar first, and sat im front with a view of Davis' table. Surveillance had led them to the bar he'd arrived at earlier tonight. Morgan was slowly nursing a beer and watching the crowd when Emily arrived. She strutted through the bar, clearly enjoying the attention she was receiving from all the male patrons whose eyes seemed to land on her instantly.

She stood right in front of Davis and smirked, one hand on a hip. Derek heard her speak through the feed patched into his earpiece. "Little birdie told me you were hanging around Seattle now."

His head seemed to shoot up at her voice, and a smile broke out. "I'll be damned. Lauren, you look as fuckable as the day I met you."

Morgan tensed, and spoke into his wrist mic, hiding the action by leaning toward his beer bottle. "She made contact."

"I should hope so," Emily said. No, _Lauren_. "I don't look this good by accident."

Davis chuckled, and leaned up, pulling Emily into his lap. Lauren. Lauren was straddling his legs, and Davis ran a hand over her ass until Lauren smacked it away. Then she pushed herself out of his lap and onto a nearby chair, and not a moment too soon. Morgan's beer bottle was only a few ounces of pressure away from bursting in his hand.

Davis rested a hand on her thigh. "So what brings you to Seattle, Lauren?"

"Looking for fresh business."

"You expanding?"

She picked up Davis' scotch and sipped it, then made a face. "I forgot you like that Kentucky shit."

He held up a hand. "I like to support American businesses."

"If they turn out whiskey like that, they don't deserve your support."

"Right, and I forgot you prefer Irish whiskey or Scotch." He smirked. "I heard you also prefer you men of that persuasion."

To Morgan's surprise, Emily didn't falter. She smiled instead and nodded. "That I do. Though not unlike with whiskey, I do occasionally taste test American varieties."

Davis smiled and his hand rose further along her thigh. With his other arm, he waved over a waitress. "Bring the lady a Bushmills."

Morgan wasn't familiar with the brand, but Garcia quickly spoke through the radio. "It's an Irish whisky, supposed to be pretty good."

After the waitress left, Lauren spoke. "To answer your earlier question, yes I'm trying to expand. Things on the east coast are getting a bit dull."

He laughed. "My mother warned me about girls like you."

"Oh really? And what kind of girl am I?"

"The kind that gets off on action and danger. Something tells me you think about sex when bullets are flying by your head."

Lauren flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and her eyes went heavy with desire. She practically purred at Davis. "There is no greater aphrodisiac on the planet."

"As true as that may be, it also makes you reckless. Reckless isn't good to do business with."

"I'll cut you in." She said as the waitress dropped off her drink.

He paused, stared down at his glass and then back at Emily. "50%."

She cocked her head. "Yeah, right. 10%."

"40."

"15."

"35."

"17."

"30."

"20."

"25."

"20," she repeated.

He sighed. "Fine, 20 it is." He held up his glass. They clinked and Lauren downed hers in one gulp. Morgan grimaced, that was reckless for undercover work. Especially since Emily couldn't hold her liquor as well as she used to able to do. Months in the hospital and recuperating will do that to a person.

"So, you'll introduce me to your contacts?" She asked.

"I'll arrange it for tomorrow."

She nodded. "Hey, have you heard about these missing women?"

"Missing women? What do you care about them?"

"I don't like to hang around long anywhere where women go missing. I figure that reduces my chances of ending up as one of them."

His lips parted in an almost predatory grin. "Don't worry, Baby, I'll protect you."

Lauren smiled back, though hers was unmistakably predatory, and leaned close. "Are you sure you could handle me?"

Davis moved forward so that their foreheads were practically touching. "What if I told you that I know the guy that's been disappearing those women?"

"I'd say that you're bluffing." Her smile didn't fall.

He spoke softly, his lips brushing her ear, or nearly doing so. "Come home with me. Let me show you something."

* * *

Emily felt like there was a coat of used oil slicking her skin, one that she'd never be able to wash off. Davis kept his hand on her ass as he led her to his vehicle, a Challenger, maybe two years old, and black and pimped out with racing stripes. He walked her to the passenger's side of the car, and pushed her up against the door, his hands settling on her behind. He gave both cheeks a gentle squeeze, and kissed her. Hard. It wasn't passion in that kiss, but rather ownership, domination.

Emily would have pushed him away, and called it a night, but Lauren liked to play with fire. She purred at him. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"You'd be surprised what's in me, sweetheart." He gave her tush a light smack, smiled and went around to the driver's side.

Emily slide into the passenger's seat, her eyes not even glancing around to see if her back-up was with her. She trusted her team, knew they would have her back. She knew her partner would have her back.

And frankly, after being in a long-term relationship with the likes of Ian Doyle, Langston Davis wasn't all that frightening. Nothing was all that frightening after Doyle.

Davis took her hand, and for a minute she thought he was going to hold it. Instead, he rested it over the bulge in his jeans, curling her fingers around the tip of himself. Emily didn't react, except to gently stroke him through the denim. If he wanted a handjob through his pants, she'd oblige him if it meant saving another woman from his abuse. He gave off little moans as he drove, and satisfied grunts, growing harder and harder under her hand. Then they finally made it to his home, and she was rapidly losing hope that he'd give her any information.

Emily followed him along the stone path that lead to the house, but he veered off and made for the shed. She frowned, unsure what his plan was and what he needed in his shed. Langston held open the door for her, and Emily tried not to show alarm when he locked it. It looked like an average shed, filled with gardening implements and various household tools. Then he turned.

She felt the sting in her cheek, before she even knew what had happened. Emily stared at him wide-eyed. "What the hell was that?"

"Get on your knees."

"Excuse me?" She crossed her arms over her chest. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it hard.

"Get the fuck on your knees." His hands went to his pants and he began to unfasten them. "You're going to use that smart mouth of yours to get me off, and you're going to swallow every drop. Then I'm going to fuck you in the ass, and then…then it's going to get really kinky."


	2. Chapter 2

Rossi shot a look at Hotch at Davis's words. The other man was frowning deeply, and spoke rapidly into his wrist. "Everyone get ready, we move in now."

"We don't know anything," he reminded his friend.

"We're out of time."

Dave nodded, concurring with the decision, and pulled out and checked his glock. Reid was with them, more tense that Dave had seen him in a long time. Hotch's voice broke into his thoughts again. "Morgan, you take the lead."

He wondered if Hotch's decision was based on the younger man's skill and experience in tactical situations, or if he was giving Derek a chance to save his partner, to erase some of the pain he still carried around. Perhaps it was both.

Either way, they moved out of the surveillance van into the quickly darkening night, the shapes of Morgan, JJ and the local cops already moving ahead of them. Dave listened on the line to the struggle as Emily refused to submit to the man's demand for oral sex. He tried not to wonder of Ian Doyle had ever made such demands, had ever tried to dominate her. Lauren, like Emily, would not be dominated easily or without a fight.

Emily's sudden cry startled him. It was loud, not quite panicked, but definitely said that she was no longer in control. And the feed cut-off with a shock of noise. He glanced at Hotch, and saw the first signs of worry grace his friend's face. The vein that ran through his right temple was bulged out, as his blood pumped more rapidly through his body.

They made it to the shed as Morgan was kicking the door down. The men ahead filed inside, and Morgan's voice broke through the line before they got inside. "There's a hole in the ground! Son of a bitch tunneled under his damn shed! I can hear Prentiss, I'm going in!"

Then Derek's feed went silent, swallowed by the same underground as Emily's.

* * *

Morgan would not fail his partner this time.

He followed her angry epithets and grunts of pain through a short maze, his glock in front of his body, but held close to his chest, and the beam from the flashlight lighting his way. He had never for a moment regretted buying that flashlight attachment and training himself to be accurate with the extra weight and slightly altered center of gravity.

"Get the fuck off me!" Emily shouted from somewhere ahead of him.

As it turned out, the short tunnel dead-ended, but opened into rooms slightly before the final wall. Morgan followed his partner's voice into the left-hand room. He found Davis struggling to get Emily into modern day shackles. She hissed at him, and fought him off, infuriating him further.

"Langston Davis, freeze now!" JJ came to be on his right side, and a local SWAT member stood on his left. "Step away from the woman, and put your hands in the air. You move and I will not hesitate to shoot you. Do you understand?"

The other man's chest was heaving and his face was twisted in a scowl. He pushed Emily so she hit a wall, and then backed away, his hands in the air. He was still looking disdainfully at Emily, like she was garbage that hadn't earned the right to breathe his air.

"We've got live ones!" SWAT yelled from the other room.

He looked at Emily to see that the fury in her eyes had been snuffed out by hope. It was ta look that he'd come to realize meant that she was simultaneously haunted by the case, and yet encouraged that their work wasn't for nothing.

Morgan let SWAT cuff and lead Davis out of his dungeon. JJ offered a nod to Emily, and went with them. Rossi appeared then, looking between the two of them, but studying Emily a bit longer.

"All five victims are in the other room," he said.

Emily stepped forward. "Alive?"

He shook his head. "Two are dead and have been for some time. One is still alive, but unlikely to make it, though the other two should make it. EMS is on the way now. You did good, Emily."

She offered a tense smile that Morgan knew was all for show. Then Rossi left and Emily released a breath. "Glad that's over."

* * *

They'd gotten the last woman out of the shed and off to the hospital in an ambulance, but Emily would never get the image of that room out of her mind. The three living women were chained to various things and in various positions, all filthy, bloody, starved and dehydrated. The two dead women had been dumped on the floor like so much trash.

CSU and the ME's office would be in that hole for a while yet, but their job was done. She lit a cigarette, and ignored the hustle and bustle around herself, at least until Morgan appeared, her ever-vigilant partner and often bodyguard.

"Those things will kill you."

She snorted. "With my track record? They better get in line."

He wasn't amused. "Are you okay?"

"I've had worse."

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Your turn with the EMTs."

Emily refused to give in to his nudge toward the waiting ambulance. "I'm fine, I don't need care."

"Hotch's orders."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and walked over to the EMTs. They immediately began examining the bruising on her face, and the scratches on her arms and legs. She winced as they cleaned the scrapes with antiseptic, and prodded the swelling on her face too hard. Emily was just exhausted, both mentally and emotionally and wanted desperately to go home.

Morgan stood beside her as the medics worked, and was soon joined by the others. She tried to ignore their presence, and the worry radiating from all five of them. Clyde had never accepted her "I'm fines" easily, but he hadn't fretted nearly as much as the team. She missed those days. She missed when they all believed without a doubt that they'd bounce back, no matter what happened. That was long past, and Emily was beginning to feel the weight of all she done pressing down on her.

It was exhausting.

"I don't think you have a concussion, Agent Prentiss. Ice your face, keep the worst of the scrapes clean, and get some rest. If you start getting dizzy, black-out or pass out, begin to experience migraines, or throw-up, go see a doctor immediately. Okay?" The EMT stood in front of her, eyes staring deep into hers.

She nodded. "Yeah, I've got it."

Emily slid out of the back of the ambulance, and found herself right in front of Hotch. He studied her for several seconds, and then his gaze flicked toward Rossi. "Dave, take Prentiss back to the hotel. JJ and Morgan, meet the victims at the hospital. Reid you're with me."

* * *

She'd showered, she'd changed back into her own clothes, and frankly, back into her own skin. Lauren had been frighteningly real for over a year of her life, an alternate personality, who at times had seemed to take over. Emily had liked pieces of Lauren, she liked that Lauren allowed her to be bad, to explore a darkness inside of herself that terrified her. She'd been good at that, at letting her morals drop so she could do what people like Ian Doyle expected of her. She'd been very good in the role of seductress, but she'd also been seduced.

That world attracted her.

The lawlessness, the freedom from morals, from caring about other people's opinions, from trying to live up to the high standards that had been set when she was a child. As Lauren all that faded away, and she could just exist. She could follow her whims, no matter how wrong they may have seemed to others. That was an intoxicating feeling, and an addictive one. Lauren's world, Lauren's life, that was a drug for Emily, a very potent one. And like cocaine and heroin and meth, if she fed it, it would eventually destroy her.

That was what the team could and would never understand. She paid a high price every time she went back to that drug, because every time, she risked that addiction.

That's why she hid away on the corner of the jet, her arms wrapped around her upper body, and her eyes fixed on nothing outside the window. She had to decompress before she could be back in their world, she needed space to deal with the fact that they knew part of her that she'd never wanted them to know.

"That swelling looks terrible, you didn't ice it at all did you?" Rossi slid into the seat across from her.

"Forgot."

He smirked, he didn't believe it. "You know we saved three women yesterday, because of you."

"Three?"

"Yeah, she's still hanging on. The doctors think she has a chance at recovery."

"Physically maybe, but…" She licked her top lip, and then shook her head. Carla was her name, the woman the EMTs had said wouldn't make it.

"That's true, but she seemed to have a lot of family around. I think she has a chance at a full recovery, and thanks to you. One more day, and it would have been too late for her."

"It was a team effort," she said without feeling.

"No." He shook his head. "No, it wasn't. This one was all you, kid. If you hadn't gone under, we couldn't have found those women. We wouldn't have even been able to get a warrant to look, not with the shoddy evidence we have. Those three women have you to thank for their lives."

"We would have eventually gotten him somehow. Eventually."

He nodded. "Maybe so. But Carla would be dead. And how many other lifeless bodies would we have pulled out then? How many more women would he have had opportunity to abuse and violate by the time we figured out how to get him?"

"I don't regret it, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, that doesn't worry me. You've always been self-sacrificing, Emily."

She finally faced him. "Then what worries you, Rossi?"

"The look in your eyes."

She tightened her arms around herself. "What look is that?"

"Otherness."

"I'm sorry?"

"You've sequestered yourself. You're drifting from us, separating yourself from us. You think Lauren makes you unworthy of being part of this team, this family. That it makes you different in some horrible way." He reached a hand out to rest on her arm. "It doesn't, Emily. Derek spent a lot of time as a UC, Hotch and I have both had UC assignments in our careers. You aren't so different."

"You've never done what I've done, Dave." Before he could argue, she held up a hand. "I was CIA and Interpol for a long time, Doyle was just a small part of that. I can't tell you anything about it, but Lauren…Lauren is one of many names I've had." One of many dark roles that she'd played, though certainly the most memorable. The most addictive.

He offered her only a soft smile and squeezed her forearm, before returning back to the others.

When they climbed down the jet steps, and headed to their cars, Emily began to dig out her cigarettes and lighter. She didn't notice that Morgan adjusted his pace to meet her and walk beside her. He didn't speak until she slid a cigarette between her lips.

"So, you're going to start smoking again?"

She offered a self-deprecating smile. "You know how it is, you have just a few of these and your brain remembers. It's hard to stop."

"They're going to make it hard to pass your next physical." He was playing it off, like it wasn't a big deal that she was about to light-up.

"Valid point." She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and held it in her hand with her lighter. "You know what helped me quit the first time?"

"No idea."

"Ice cream." She smiled. "Well, that and exercise, otherwise I'd have gained 500 pounds."

"I guess that's as good a way to quit as any." He stopped walking as they reached her sedan.

Emily sighed and slid the cigarette back into the pack. She looked around at the team heading toward cars, and thought that maybe she could shed that skin again. Leave Lauren behind for good. She let her eyes land on Morgan again, and held the pack of cigarettes out to him. "Get rid of them for me?"

His hand met hers, but he didn't grab the pack, instead, he grabbed her wrist and used that grip to pull their bodies close together. "I'm glad you came to the BAU, Emily. I'm so happy you came back, that you aren't dead, and you're right, I do hate Lauren. She's a cold, manipulative bitch. But…" His voice cracked. "But, I love you."

She was frozen for several seconds, her body still tense against his, his words racing through her head. Then she breathed and allowed her body to relax against his, and let her head touch his. He held her tight, and Emily barely managed to get the words out, her voice cracking.

"Thank you."

* * *

_Sorry for the delay with this, but I something came up and it couldn't be helped. So, good news, I got a job, bad news, I'll be moving into a house with no internet access from mid-July to possibly late August. That means I won't really be able to get online to post much, so the bad news portion is that I'm going to wait to start posting any more stories until I'm settled in my own apartment, late August-September._

_Thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story!_


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